CHAPTER TWELVE

MAEVE

I’m trying to study, but my mind won’t focus on anything, only the thing Jack just did to me with his tongue. The memory of his large hands on my body has me slamming the book closed. I shouldn’t have enjoyed it; I shouldn’t have allowed him to go down on me. My cheeks flame, and I push away from the desk. “This is silly.” I get up and empty my bag onto the bed for the third time. I had searched it for my phone, but of course, he had removed it. I stack my clothes neatly; only this time, I do it by color. I don’t have much, and only four colors are actually in my wardrobe, red, black, gray, and green.

I fold a red sweater as I stare at the door. I’ve opened it a total of seven times since Jack had left hours ago, each time Freddie is there. He has to take a break, eventually. I put all the clothes back into the bag. It’s nice to be in my own clothes. The yoga pants and huge black t-shirt are what I normally wear to bed. I know it’s late, but I can’t crawl into Jack’s bed. It feels wrong. Too tempting. I always knew—even from a young age—that I was attracted to him, but now that I’m in proximity to him, I’m starting to see this attraction like an obsession. I can’t seem to get him out of my head. It’s not good. It’s really not good.

I open the door, and Freddie growls before dragging it out of my hands and slamming it shut. Yeah, I wasn’t getting out of this room too easy this time. Turning, I take my bags off the bed and place them alongside the desk that I sit down at again and open my book. I wish I had my phone to see how Declan is. I had twenty-four hours to get that money, which was tomorrow evening. I felt like I’d been trapped here longer than a few hours. I try to refocus on my psychology lessons, but my mind refuses to take anything in. Closing the book for God knows how many times, I leave the desk.

In Jack’s wardrobe at the very back, I find what I am searching for. A fresh robe. His smell surrounds me, and I inhale intentionally, my stomach wriggling with the memory of his hands on me. What way would I be after having him completely? He’d discard me like I’m the dirt under his shoe. That’s what he really saw when he looked at me, scum. He’d said it before to my face. My heart starts to race, and shame snakes its way into my heart. I enjoyed him touching me, and I shouldn’t have. I couldn’t control my body’s reaction to him, but I could control everything else, I tell myself. It gives me some comfort as I leave the wardrobe with his robe in tow.

I sit down on the large navy armchair and drag the robe over me. I’ve slept in some questionable places in my time, so this was more comfortable than most places.

“Where have you been?” My mother crushes a cigarette out on the linoleum, the hole starts to grow, and my father stamps on the melting plastic stopping the hole from progressing any further.

“Jesus, Jane. I didn’t put that down for you to fucking burn it.”

I move back into the hall and huddle against the wall. My dad normally never curses.

A plate smashes, and I cover my ears. The floor is cold under my bare feet, and I glance at Declan’s door. Should I wake him up?

More things smash. Then I hear a sound I’ve heard before, but I’m not sure what it is until my dad speaks.

“Hit me again, Jane…”

“You’ll what? Hit me back?” My mother’s voice vibrates with emotions she can’t control. “Who was it this time? Pauline? Lisa? Which one kept you out all night?”

The kitchen door closes, and I hear my dad’s voice hiss quietly, “Don’t wake up the kids.”

I open my eyes as they burn, and I rub the dream right out of my head. Was that a memory? My mind slingshots back to our kitchen, and as if I’m holding a magnifying glass, the burn mark on the linoleum is there. I just thought it was one of her drunken nights, and she fell asleep. I run my hands across my face and roll over in my bed, only to catch myself at the last second. I’m not in my bed. I’m not alone. I’m not home.

He’s asleep on his stomach. One hand is under his head, and he’s facing me. He has no top on, and I can see the flames of the black ink flow across his tanned and solid back. I bite hard on my lip as I will my body to relax. I’m trying to remember how the hell I got here. I glance at the armchair; the robe is thrown across the high back.

My gaze springs back to Jack. Dark eyelashes rest on his high cheeks. I curl my fingers into fists so I don’t do something like touch his face. Squeezing my eyes tightly, I try to force my heart rate to slow before opening my eyes again. I shift slightly and wait. Nothing happens. I move until I’m up on my knees, bending over his huge frame. God, even lying down, he looks so big. I’m careful with the quilts so as not to pull them down too far on him.

His back is in full view now. I study his back until the image becomes clear. It’s a lion wearing a crown, he’s on his hind legs like a man. The image is stunning, and I’m tempted again to touch it. My hand reaches out, and my pulse pounds in my ears. The tips of my fingers touch the image. Muscles clench, and I withdraw my hand. I can’t move as the horror at being caught has everything in me freezing. Jack doesn’t move. His eyes are still closed, his body relaxed. I look to the ceiling and question what the hell I’m doing. Taking one final look at his back, the only color in the whole image is the lion’s eye that is red.

I slowly and carefully lie back down and shuffle as far away from Jack as I can. He’s not good for me. He’s not good for my heart. The feeling that he’s going to destroy me all over again, keeps me awake for hours. Each time I try to close my eyes, my heart flutters like it’s missing a beat. The sensation is uncomfortable. I move slowly out of bed and go to the bathroom to relieve myself. Returning to the room, I see the first signs of morning coming with the rising sun behind the mountains. Grabbing the robe, I throw it over my shoulders and try the balcony doors. They open. Taking one final look, I step outside and close the doors behind me. It’s really stunning, and I envy Jack for having the luxury to see this every morning. I think I’d put a small table and chairs out here to have my breakfast every morning. I wrap the robe around me and tie it. This morning there is no wind, the fields are still, and there is something majestic about the red flaming ball that rises behind the peak of the mountain. I stay outside until the cold drives me back in. My nose is numb, and I push it into the shoulder of the robe before stepping inside. The bed is empty, and my gaze darts around the room, looking for him.

Noise in the wardrobe has me closing the balcony door behind me. Jack steps out and pauses when he sees me. I have no idea what to do or say.

“Did you put me in the bed?” The question flies from my lips.

My voice has him moving to a bedside table. “No, Freddie did.”

The thoughts of Freddie’s hands on me have my spine straightening.

“Today, Freddie will go with you to deliver the money, and then he will bring you straight back.”

A thank you is on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow it fast. “Can I have my phone?”

“No.” He slides a gold watch onto his wrist without looking at me.

“Can I use your phone?”

“No.” He picks up his phone and puts it in his trousers pocket. “When you behave, I will give you privileges; otherwise, you will be punished.”

My cheeks redden at how he says punished. I hate how my core tightens with delight.

“I know you tried to leave your room several times last night.”

Freddie did a full report. “I was hungry.”

Jack steps closer. “Next time, tell him that you are hungry, and he’ll have Liz fix you some food.”

Liz must be the woman who was in his kitchen, his chef. He’s staring at me like he’s waiting for something, and I tighten my arms around my waist. When I remember I’m in his robe, I quickly unwrap it and take it off. Holding it out to him, I don’t meet his eyes. “I was cold last night,” I explain, but I’m still holding it out when I glance up at him.

“I’m going out for a few hours. So go with Freddie and behave.” My arm drops down to my side as he leaves with a tightened jaw. He’s always hostile, but this morning there is a different feeling in the air, and I have no idea what it is.

I do tell Freddie I’m hungry, and he grumbles at me before he closes my door. I hear a key turn in the lock. I put my ear to the door and hear his heavy footsteps pound down the stairs. While he’s gone, I shower and get dressed for my meeting today. I am excited to see Declan so I can reassure myself that he’s okay. Then when I return here, I hope Jack takes what he wants so I can leave.

After breakfast, I’m still locked in my room. The day drags by, and I try to study again, but I can’t. Once I get the money handed over, I might be able to breathe a bit better, knowing no one will harass Declan or my mother.

Tea and sandwiches arrive in the middle of the day, and I’m locked in the room again. I spend most of my day out on the balcony, tortured by memories that I had forgotten. Being here has forced me to face all the forgotten ones. I think I wanted to forget them. They didn’t paint my father in the best light. Each memory is my mother accusing him of having an affair, and now it makes me question if it’s why she drinks—why she has always drunk. Guilt clenches my gut and throat, and I quickly go back into my room. I’m ready to demand Freddie to get me out of this room, when the door opens like he knows I’m at my breaking point.

“It’s time,” Is all he says.

Freddie takes me out to a waiting car. He holds the back door open, and I slide into the back. A bag is sitting beside me. Freddie slips into the driver’s seat. “Your money is in there.”

I touch the bag, and I’m tempted to zip it down, but I don’t have to question if Jack has the money. I am, after all, being chauffeur driven in a Range Rover. I fix the black shirt on me, it’s see-through, but I have a cami underneath. I feel like I’m going for an interview. Nerves niggle under my skin, making me itchy. Sweat makes an appearance on the back of my neck. I lift my hair and fan it. Freddie’s watching me, but I don’t speak to him.

As promised, I’m driven to my house. I’m eager to get out of the car, but when I reach for the handle, the door doesn’t open.

“Unlock the door,” I demand with one hand on the bag. Freddie doesn’t; instead, he takes off his seat belt and faces me.

“I’m not fucking Jack. I don’t have a hard-on for you. If you try to run, I’m going to hurt you.”

I sink into the seat, wondering if I just heard him right.

“I’ll fuck you up if you cross me.” He’s glaring at me. “Got it?”

“Crystal clear.” I exhale a shaky breath.

“Let’s go.”

“You don’t have to come in.”

He gets out, and I know arguing with the giant is pointless.

The door has been boarded up, and more guilt ripples through me. I had left without even considering how either of them would fix the door. I knock a few times before it opens, and my mother’s glazed-over eyes start at my toes and work their way up to my face. “I thought you left us here to rot.”

I reach in to touch her face. The side is swollen, a purple bruise blossoms along the skin.

She flinches away from my touch, and I won’t lie and say that it doesn’t hurt.

“Just like your father.” Her words are like a slap to the face.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” My defense is weak.

Her gaze trails down to the bag in my hand. “Is that the money?”

“Yes. What happened to your face?” She steps into the hall, and I follow her into the kitchen with Freddie on my heels.

“Those bastards came back for their money. Slapped me around.”

My mother sits down, and under the light, her face looks bad. “Jesus, mom. Did you ring the Gardaí?”

She takes the cigarette and lighter out of her nightgown pocket. “Yep. That was hours ago. They still haven’t arrived.”

I drop the bag and go to the freezer; there’s no ice or food in it. I close the door and run the cold tap.

“What did they say?” I ask as I run a towel under the cold water.

“They were looking for you, so I told them Jack O’Reagan took you.”

Every cell in my body goes rigid, and I’m paralyzed for a moment. What would that mean? “Why did you tell them that?”

My mother growls and points at her face. “I wanted the bald one to stop hitting me.” I bring the towel over and try to put it on her cheek, but she swipes my hand away.

“Where is Declan?”

My mother’s laugh is bitter and twists her lips. “That’s all you care about.”

“Where is he?” My voice rises and bounces around the space.

“They took him.”

“Why didn’t you say that when I came in?” I’m picking up the bag, but I have no idea where they are.

“Calm down.” She takes a slip of paper out of her pocket. “They said to meet them here if you want Declan back.”

I snatch it out of my mother’s fingers, and I’m ready to march out of the house, but Freddie is in the way.

“Boss told me to bring you here and bring you back. That’s it.”

“Freddie, they are going to kill my brother.” I try to reach out to his compassionate side, but by the look on his face, he has none.

“Ring Jack,” I demand, but everything in me wants to go right now. I need to get to Declan.

“No.”

“Ring him!” My shouts don’t make Freddie flinch. My mother’s screams behind me have me swinging around. She’s falling from the chair.

I’m trying to bend down and help her when she grabs me. “Go.” She whispers before she starts to scream again.

“Help me,” I beg Freddie, and he steps in to pick my mother off the ground. I use that moment with his back to me to spring from the kitchen.